As a grieving parent, you feel that void all the time. However, when it comes to holidays, you feel it even stronger.
Tomorrow is Christmas, meaning we've gotten to shop, asking ourselves "what would this child like, what's on their list?". We've gotten to accumulate multiple gifts for each child. We get to spend hours wrapping gifts. We get to load the underside of the tree with gifts. We get to see our children's faces as they see the tree on Christmas morning. We get to watch our children furiously open the gifts we spent all that time wrapping. We get to see their faces as they see everything they have received. We get to do family get togethers and watch our children receive gifts from grandparents, aunts, and uncles. We get to purchase one small item that we can either put on a shelf, in a cabinet, or on a grave.
Sadly, all of the festivities are a reminder of the life lost. This child will not get to celebrate christmas or the many things it entails. This means there is no pile of gifts for that child from us or family. Our child won't be remembered by many family members (though sometimes they are forgotten by some families altogether). This means standing at a grave weeping. No excitement from that child. No anything. As people begin to put out Christmas lights, I begin to think of the fact that she will never know the excitement of seeing a home all decked out in lights.
Every year, I can find comfort in the fact that my mother, stepfather, and sisters will remember my daughter. My parents, knowing how I felt about Mary's footprints, ALWAYS purchase several kits that we can donate to the hospital. Actually, all of them remember my daughter all the time, not just at Christmas, but my own mother has also lost a child and really gets it. I wish we didn't have this bond, but we do, and it's led to a deep understanding of one another. Her reaction after my sisters death finally made sense to me after I went through it too. Every Christmas, since my sister passed away, she has purchased a teddy bear for her, so, again, she gets it. Luckily, not many mothers and daughters can say they share this bond, so not many families really get it.
Every year, we get to purchase one small item knowing our daughter really won't receive it. We know she won't be opening it. We know that it will be placed in her curio or on her grave. We can't not buy something for her, even if she's not here, knowing it will break our hearts. Tomorrow, we will let one of our kids open a small pink stuffed bear, get dressed warmly and drive to the cemetery, place this bear on the base of her headstone, and take our children home to revel in the gifts they have received. Tomorrow, this will hit us harder than usual and we will feel that void. We will shed tears at her grave as we admire the addition of this little bear to her already loaded resting spot, hoping, somehow, that she can see how much she is loved and missed by us.
This year, if you know a grieving parent or anyone grieving, reach out. Let them know you remember. Let them know they aren't alone. Give them a shoulder, even if they say they don't need it, because we really do. This is especially true if the lost child was the only child the parents had.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Christmas as a Grieving Parent
As a grieving parent, you feel that void all the time. However, when it comes to holidays, you feel it even stronger.
Tomorrow is Christmas, meaning we've gotten to shop, asking ourselves "what would this child like, what's on their list?". We've gotten to accumulate multiple gifts for each child. We get to spend hours wrapping gifts. We get to load the underside of the tree with gifts. We get to see our children's faces as they see the tree on Christmas morning. We get to watch our children furiously open the gifts we spent all that time wrapping. We get to see their faces as they see everything they have received. We get to do family get togethers and watch our children receive gifts from grandparents, aunts, and uncles. We get to purchase one small item that we can either put on a shelf, in a cabinet, or on a grave.
Sadly, all of the festivities are a reminder of the life lost. This child will not get to celebrate christmas or the many things it entails. This means there is no pile of gifts for that child from us or family. Our child won't be remembered by many family members (though sometimes they are forgotten by some families altogether). This means standing at a grave weeping. No excitement from that child. No anything. As people begin to put out Christmas lights, I begin to think of the fact that she will never know the excitement of seeing a home all decked out in lights.
Every year, I can find comfort in the fact that my mother, stepfather, and sisters will remember my daughter. My parents, knowing how I felt about Mary's footprints, ALWAYS purchase several kits that we can donate to the hospital. Actually, all of them remember my daughter all the time, not just at Christmas, but my own mother has also lost a child and really gets it. I wish we didn't have this bond, but we do, and it's led to a deep understanding of one another. Her reaction after my sisters death finally made sense to me after I went through it too. Every Christmas, since my sister passed away, she has purchased a teddy bear for her, so, again, she gets it. Luckily, not many mothers and daughters can say they share this bond, so not many families really get it.
Every year, we get to purchase one small item knowing our daughter really won't receive it. We know she won't be opening it. We know that it will be placed in her curio or on her grave. We can't not buy something for her, even if she's not here, knowing it will break our hearts. Tomorrow, we will let one of our kids open a small pink stuffed bear, get dressed warmly and drive to the cemetery, place this bear on the base of her headstone, and take our children home to revel in the gifts they have received. Tomorrow, this will hit us harder than usual and we will feel that void. We will shed tears at her grave as we admire the addition of this little bear to her already loaded resting spot, hoping, somehow, that she can see how much she is loved and missed by us.
This year, if you know a grieving parent or anyone grieving, reach out. Let them know you remember. Let them know they aren't alone. Give them a shoulder, even if they say they don't need it, because we really do. This is especially true if the lost child was the only child the parents had.
Tomorrow is Christmas, meaning we've gotten to shop, asking ourselves "what would this child like, what's on their list?". We've gotten to accumulate multiple gifts for each child. We get to spend hours wrapping gifts. We get to load the underside of the tree with gifts. We get to see our children's faces as they see the tree on Christmas morning. We get to watch our children furiously open the gifts we spent all that time wrapping. We get to see their faces as they see everything they have received. We get to do family get togethers and watch our children receive gifts from grandparents, aunts, and uncles. We get to purchase one small item that we can either put on a shelf, in a cabinet, or on a grave.
Sadly, all of the festivities are a reminder of the life lost. This child will not get to celebrate christmas or the many things it entails. This means there is no pile of gifts for that child from us or family. Our child won't be remembered by many family members (though sometimes they are forgotten by some families altogether). This means standing at a grave weeping. No excitement from that child. No anything. As people begin to put out Christmas lights, I begin to think of the fact that she will never know the excitement of seeing a home all decked out in lights.
Every year, I can find comfort in the fact that my mother, stepfather, and sisters will remember my daughter. My parents, knowing how I felt about Mary's footprints, ALWAYS purchase several kits that we can donate to the hospital. Actually, all of them remember my daughter all the time, not just at Christmas, but my own mother has also lost a child and really gets it. I wish we didn't have this bond, but we do, and it's led to a deep understanding of one another. Her reaction after my sisters death finally made sense to me after I went through it too. Every Christmas, since my sister passed away, she has purchased a teddy bear for her, so, again, she gets it. Luckily, not many mothers and daughters can say they share this bond, so not many families really get it.
Every year, we get to purchase one small item knowing our daughter really won't receive it. We know she won't be opening it. We know that it will be placed in her curio or on her grave. We can't not buy something for her, even if she's not here, knowing it will break our hearts. Tomorrow, we will let one of our kids open a small pink stuffed bear, get dressed warmly and drive to the cemetery, place this bear on the base of her headstone, and take our children home to revel in the gifts they have received. Tomorrow, this will hit us harder than usual and we will feel that void. We will shed tears at her grave as we admire the addition of this little bear to her already loaded resting spot, hoping, somehow, that she can see how much she is loved and missed by us.
This year, if you know a grieving parent or anyone grieving, reach out. Let them know you remember. Let them know they aren't alone. Give them a shoulder, even if they say they don't need it, because we really do. This is especially true if the lost child was the only child the parents had.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Bereavement Photography and Customs
I know I'm currently working on a series sharing my birthing experiences with people, but I got to read some really horrific comments in regards to the lost Duggar Baby, Jubilee Shalom, that are really leaving me to question humanity. I changed my profile photo to my daughter and posted a status in support of, not only The Duggars, but every single mother out there that has lost a child or will lose a child at any time in her life. Imagine my shock to receive a comment against bereavement photographs by one of my own family. So, I think, this subject really needs addressed.
This is our history. So many parents and families never got a chance to have a photo before death, so they got in this one last photo to remember their loved one. It wasn't to remember the death, it was to remember the person. They didn't want to forget their lost loved one.
After WWI, funerals began moving into funeral parlors. Death began occuring in hospitals. Undertakers would care for our loved ones and bury them in a grave in a cemetary. Before that, funerals were at home. Death was at home. Your loved ones would care for and bury you. And again, this was commonplace. Unfortunately, when you took home out of the equation, death was almost hidden from people and it became more "private". The less people are exposed to death, the more taboo it became. Luckily, with medical advances, not as many infants and children died, so this is something most people were not accustomed to anymore. This is a great thing, but it has backfired and made loss a taboo subject.
As the Victorian Era came to an end and death was removed from the home, people were more able to dissociate themselves from death. When a mother would lose a child before/after birth, the baby would just be taken away and placed in an unmarked grave that, sometimes, the parents didn't even know about. At one point, babies weren't named or even considered viable until they hit 30 days of age. It was believed that acknowledging the loss caused you to be in mourning, so if you pretend the baby never happened, you had no reason to mourn. For older infants and children, they were buried and life moved on. For the newborns, most parents didn't even get to see their baby, let alone have anything to remember that child by, like a photo. Parents were encouraged to just get over it and have another baby. So many of these parents were left with these gaping wounds that could never heal because they had no closure. When my friends and I hear about loss from the 40's to the 60/70's, the stories are all the same.
As the 70's and 80's approached, things changed some. Sometimes parents did get to see the child and plan funerals. There were no photos and you weren't suppose to grieve. And now, in most places, you get to hold and see your baby. You get to have photographs taken by a photographer who volunteers through Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, an infant bereavement photography organization. You get to be active with the funeral planning. We know where our babies get buried, if we choose to bury them at all.
Now, due to The Duggars sharing photos of tiny feet and a hand, they have come under so much fire. Not only have people criticized the photos, but they have criticized the way the parents are choosing to grieve. One psychologist spoke up proclaiming " “From what I know of parents who have lost children, it’s horrific. It’s not something you want pictures of.". To this, I have to say- "WTF?". So, I asked some friends and they gave me permission to share:
" I will always be grateful that we were encouraged to spend as much time with him as we wanted and take pictures. It helped me to see his pictures around our home and to look through his memory box as I grieved. It helped to not only make it real so my mind could accept reality but to also heal, each day crying less and less till I could look at his pictures and smile, happy that I have them to remember him, rather than break down."
" I did hold her and I do have pictures. I didn't think I would be able to handle either, but after I had her and I slept I woke up with this overwhelming urge to hold her so I'm glad I got to and I'm gld I had someone take pictures of those first moments. Someone told me I might want it later which was why I made sure to have pictures. It definitely helped.- Monica
"Yes Bambi we both me and hubby got to hold or Taylor lynn she was born at 26 weeks and 3 days. We did Kanga care with her. I cherish all the time we had with her. She was in the Nicu for 4 days. We were with her petty much all the time. I don't know what I would do without our time we had, our pictures and the memories"
As you can see, many of us truly cherish being able to see and hold our children. It has helped us in our grief and given us something tangible to hold on to. Looking at the older women that are just now searching for graves and opening up, you can see and hear the pain of these unacknowledged losses. They have been in pain and unable to talk about it for 30, 40, or 50 years. Could you imagine just having your baby whisked away, not seeing it, not holding it, having nothing, and being told to get over it and have another baby as though another child can replace that lost baby?? We need to be able to talk about our babies. We NEED to hold that child. We NEED to have something of that child. We NEED acknowledgement of that life cut short. It is crucial to how we cope with these deaths. When we are told we cannot share or we see comments such as "that is disgusting", "those are morbid", calling our child a "corpse" (there was a woman on babycenter who did this ALL THE TIME), it hurts us all over again. It's hard enough enduring loss, but to deal with people being insensitive due to their own fears and insecurities, we ARE victimized all over again.
When it comes to our photos, these are the ONLY photos we will ever have. We don't have the chance to photograph those first smiles, first crawls, first steps, first teeth, first birthdays, first holidays, NOTHING. You know, people say The Duggars should grieve in private. In other words, they don't want to acknowledge grieving parents. Back in the Victorian Era, people had special mourning garments and had set periods with which to mourn and how to behave in each period. So, grief was observed back then. Then grief wasn't, and now it is again or we are trying to have it observed by others again.
Our photos are not morbid or creepy or disgusting and they do help us in our grief. With that, I will leave you with the video of my daughter, put together by a wonderful photographer named Teresa.
During the Victorian Era, death was common amongst infants and youth. Childhood mortality took one out of five babies in their first year and two out of five children before their fifth birthday. Over 30% of children passed away during the 19th century. Women always expected to lose children.
Daguerreotype (a detailed photo on polished silver) was becoming popular. Due to this, people began to photograph recently deceased people, though a majority were babies and children. The practice of Memento Mori grew in popularity as photography became more affordable using other mediums such as ambrotype (on glass), tintype (on thin inexpensive metal), and then on paper known as carte-de-visite. The "deceased" (truly HATE that word as it is so dehumanizing) would be photographed as if they were alive, but sleeping. Most of the time with babies and children, they would be propped up surrounded by family (either parents and siblings, just parents, just a parent, or just siblings). Sometimes, there was a photo of a baby in a coffin or just a child surrounded by it's toys. Again, these deaths were commonplace.
This is our history. So many parents and families never got a chance to have a photo before death, so they got in this one last photo to remember their loved one. It wasn't to remember the death, it was to remember the person. They didn't want to forget their lost loved one.
After WWI, funerals began moving into funeral parlors. Death began occuring in hospitals. Undertakers would care for our loved ones and bury them in a grave in a cemetary. Before that, funerals were at home. Death was at home. Your loved ones would care for and bury you. And again, this was commonplace. Unfortunately, when you took home out of the equation, death was almost hidden from people and it became more "private". The less people are exposed to death, the more taboo it became. Luckily, with medical advances, not as many infants and children died, so this is something most people were not accustomed to anymore. This is a great thing, but it has backfired and made loss a taboo subject.
As the Victorian Era came to an end and death was removed from the home, people were more able to dissociate themselves from death. When a mother would lose a child before/after birth, the baby would just be taken away and placed in an unmarked grave that, sometimes, the parents didn't even know about. At one point, babies weren't named or even considered viable until they hit 30 days of age. It was believed that acknowledging the loss caused you to be in mourning, so if you pretend the baby never happened, you had no reason to mourn. For older infants and children, they were buried and life moved on. For the newborns, most parents didn't even get to see their baby, let alone have anything to remember that child by, like a photo. Parents were encouraged to just get over it and have another baby. So many of these parents were left with these gaping wounds that could never heal because they had no closure. When my friends and I hear about loss from the 40's to the 60/70's, the stories are all the same.
As the 70's and 80's approached, things changed some. Sometimes parents did get to see the child and plan funerals. There were no photos and you weren't suppose to grieve. And now, in most places, you get to hold and see your baby. You get to have photographs taken by a photographer who volunteers through Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, an infant bereavement photography organization. You get to be active with the funeral planning. We know where our babies get buried, if we choose to bury them at all.
Now, due to The Duggars sharing photos of tiny feet and a hand, they have come under so much fire. Not only have people criticized the photos, but they have criticized the way the parents are choosing to grieve. One psychologist spoke up proclaiming " “From what I know of parents who have lost children, it’s horrific. It’s not something you want pictures of.". To this, I have to say- "WTF?". So, I asked some friends and they gave me permission to share:
" I will always be grateful that we were encouraged to spend as much time with him as we wanted and take pictures. It helped me to see his pictures around our home and to look through his memory box as I grieved. It helped to not only make it real so my mind could accept reality but to also heal, each day crying less and less till I could look at his pictures and smile, happy that I have them to remember him, rather than break down."
" I did hold her and I do have pictures. I didn't think I would be able to handle either, but after I had her and I slept I woke up with this overwhelming urge to hold her so I'm glad I got to and I'm gld I had someone take pictures of those first moments. Someone told me I might want it later which was why I made sure to have pictures. It definitely helped.- Monica
"Yes Bambi we both me and hubby got to hold or Taylor lynn she was born at 26 weeks and 3 days. We did Kanga care with her. I cherish all the time we had with her. She was in the Nicu for 4 days. We were with her petty much all the time. I don't know what I would do without our time we had, our pictures and the memories"
"I did both and more. We were beyond blessed we knew the outcome of our Babys life before he was born. We had a dear friend and photographer with Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep capture the most precious moments of the short time we had our son. She made me a gorgeous album and slideshow for his service. I cherish those pictures more than words can express. We also had someone come to the hospital and take 3d hand and foot castings. Every member of our family has his precious feet and we also have a statute if his feet and his little hand holding my finger. These items are so special to me. To this day, nearly 5 yrs later, they are something I couldn't imagine not having. We are so blessed to have walked away from such a devastating loss with some of the most beautiful memories of the time we spent holding and loving our precious son. I wouldn't change how and what we did for the world. Those moments are so precious and will stay tucked in my heart forever"
" The nurses were kind enough to take a bunch of pictures after they took him out of the room and print them for us. I think it has helped to have them and to have been able to hold him."
":*( I had lots of photos, wanted to take photos at the funeral home and my family was REALLY against it. I even asked the funeral home if they took any without me knowing, just so I could see his sweet face just one more time."
" Mine was a miscarriage (14 weeks) so not quite the same, but I do regret not looking at him more and not getting a couple of pictures, or at least getting a copy of the last ultra-sound (although the memory of the screen is burned into my brain, but it would be nice to have for his memory box). I did have an u/s at 8 weeks and the tech gave me a bunch of pics and a cd (which I thought was silly at the time, but boy was I so grateful for it after we lost him), but you know at 14 weeks they're so much more developed and he looked so much different, it would have been nice to have."
" I saw and held Luca. I don't know if it has helped my grief simply because I don't know the reason he left us. I think it was better to have held him and see him than to have not done anything. The hospital took pictures of him for us and I do think that is good for me."
" It gave me time to love on Rachael and it gave us time to mourn her all at the same time. Family members who were willing also got to hold her. Mike went with the nurse and walked her to the morgue when it was time for us to go. That was the hardest thing I've ever done was not to go with them. BUT if we hadn't had that time I think I'd still be a basket case."
Now, since I recently shared about my miscarriages and the story about the second one, I'm going to say that I wish I had a photo of that baby. Even though it was small, I wish I could have a picture to look at instead of relying upon my memory. I'm glad I got a chance to see and hold that little baby. I think acknowledging that little person helped me come to grips with everything. I truly hate not knowing what happened to that baby after me taking it to the doctor. I will never know if it was considered medical waste or if it was buried in a mass grave somewhere.
On photos and rainbow babies:
"I think it helps with your other kids too. My daughter was born after Faith so she loves the pictures of her sister so I love that we can share them with her."
A Doctors Perspective:
" I always encourage my patients to hold their stillborn babies, to take photos, and to take hand and footprints. Our hospital has a system in place where mementos are always taken, and if the parents change their minds after the fact and want them after all, they are archived for several weeks. I know that I would want to."
As you can see, many of us truly cherish being able to see and hold our children. It has helped us in our grief and given us something tangible to hold on to. Looking at the older women that are just now searching for graves and opening up, you can see and hear the pain of these unacknowledged losses. They have been in pain and unable to talk about it for 30, 40, or 50 years. Could you imagine just having your baby whisked away, not seeing it, not holding it, having nothing, and being told to get over it and have another baby as though another child can replace that lost baby?? We need to be able to talk about our babies. We NEED to hold that child. We NEED to have something of that child. We NEED acknowledgement of that life cut short. It is crucial to how we cope with these deaths. When we are told we cannot share or we see comments such as "that is disgusting", "those are morbid", calling our child a "corpse" (there was a woman on babycenter who did this ALL THE TIME), it hurts us all over again. It's hard enough enduring loss, but to deal with people being insensitive due to their own fears and insecurities, we ARE victimized all over again.
When it comes to our photos, these are the ONLY photos we will ever have. We don't have the chance to photograph those first smiles, first crawls, first steps, first teeth, first birthdays, first holidays, NOTHING. You know, people say The Duggars should grieve in private. In other words, they don't want to acknowledge grieving parents. Back in the Victorian Era, people had special mourning garments and had set periods with which to mourn and how to behave in each period. So, grief was observed back then. Then grief wasn't, and now it is again or we are trying to have it observed by others again.
Our photos are not morbid or creepy or disgusting and they do help us in our grief. With that, I will leave you with the video of my daughter, put together by a wonderful photographer named Teresa.
Bereavement Photography and Customs
I know I'm currently working on a series sharing my birthing experiences with people, but I got to read some really horrific comments in regards to the lost Duggar Baby, Jubilee Shalom, that are really leaving me to question humanity. I changed my profile photo to my daughter and posted a status in support of, not only The Duggars, but every single mother out there that has lost a child or will lose a child at any time in her life. Imagine my shock to receive a comment against bereavement photographs by one of my own family. So, I think, this subject really needs addressed.
This is our history. So many parents and families never got a chance to have a photo before death, so they got in this one last photo to remember their loved one. It wasn't to remember the death, it was to remember the person. They didn't want to forget their lost loved one.
After WWI, funerals began moving into funeral parlors. Death began occuring in hospitals. Undertakers would care for our loved ones and bury them in a grave in a cemetary. Before that, funerals were at home. Death was at home. Your loved ones would care for and bury you. And again, this was commonplace. Unfortunately, when you took home out of the equation, death was almost hidden from people and it became more "private". The less people are exposed to death, the more taboo it became. Luckily, with medical advances, not as many infants and children died, so this is something most people were not accustomed to anymore. This is a great thing, but it has backfired and made loss a taboo subject.
As the Victorian Era came to an end and death was removed from the home, people were more able to dissociate themselves from death. When a mother would lose a child before/after birth, the baby would just be taken away and placed in an unmarked grave that, sometimes, the parents didn't even know about. At one point, babies weren't named or even considered viable until they hit 30 days of age. It was believed that acknowledging the loss caused you to be in mourning, so if you pretend the baby never happened, you had no reason to mourn. For older infants and children, they were buried and life moved on. For the newborns, most parents didn't even get to see their baby, let alone have anything to remember that child by, like a photo. Parents were encouraged to just get over it and have another baby. So many of these parents were left with these gaping wounds that could never heal because they had no closure. When my friends and I hear about loss from the 40's to the 60/70's, the stories are all the same.
As the 70's and 80's approached, things changed some. Sometimes parents did get to see the child and plan funerals. There were no photos and you weren't suppose to grieve. And now, in most places, you get to hold and see your baby. You get to have photographs taken by a photographer who volunteers through Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, an infant bereavement photography organization. You get to be active with the funeral planning. We know where our babies get buried, if we choose to bury them at all.
Now, due to The Duggars sharing photos of tiny feet and a hand, they have come under so much fire. Not only have people criticized the photos, but they have criticized the way the parents are choosing to grieve. One psychologist spoke up proclaiming " “From what I know of parents who have lost children, it’s horrific. It’s not something you want pictures of.". To this, I have to say- "WTF?". So, I asked some friends and they gave me permission to share:
" I will always be grateful that we were encouraged to spend as much time with him as we wanted and take pictures. It helped me to see his pictures around our home and to look through his memory box as I grieved. It helped to not only make it real so my mind could accept reality but to also heal, each day crying less and less till I could look at his pictures and smile, happy that I have them to remember him, rather than break down."
" I did hold her and I do have pictures. I didn't think I would be able to handle either, but after I had her and I slept I woke up with this overwhelming urge to hold her so I'm glad I got to and I'm gld I had someone take pictures of those first moments. Someone told me I might want it later which was why I made sure to have pictures. It definitely helped.- Monica
"Yes Bambi we both me and hubby got to hold or Taylor lynn she was born at 26 weeks and 3 days. We did Kanga care with her. I cherish all the time we had with her. She was in the Nicu for 4 days. We were with her petty much all the time. I don't know what I would do without our time we had, our pictures and the memories"
As you can see, many of us truly cherish being able to see and hold our children. It has helped us in our grief and given us something tangible to hold on to. Looking at the older women that are just now searching for graves and opening up, you can see and hear the pain of these unacknowledged losses. They have been in pain and unable to talk about it for 30, 40, or 50 years. Could you imagine just having your baby whisked away, not seeing it, not holding it, having nothing, and being told to get over it and have another baby as though another child can replace that lost baby?? We need to be able to talk about our babies. We NEED to hold that child. We NEED to have something of that child. We NEED acknowledgement of that life cut short. It is crucial to how we cope with these deaths. When we are told we cannot share or we see comments such as "that is disgusting", "those are morbid", calling our child a "corpse" (there was a woman on babycenter who did this ALL THE TIME), it hurts us all over again. It's hard enough enduring loss, but to deal with people being insensitive due to their own fears and insecurities, we ARE victimized all over again.
When it comes to our photos, these are the ONLY photos we will ever have. We don't have the chance to photograph those first smiles, first crawls, first steps, first teeth, first birthdays, first holidays, NOTHING. You know, people say The Duggars should grieve in private. In other words, they don't want to acknowledge grieving parents. Back in the Victorian Era, people had special mourning garments and had set periods with which to mourn and how to behave in each period. So, grief was observed back then. Then grief wasn't, and now it is again or we are trying to have it observed by others again.
Our photos are not morbid or creepy or disgusting and they do help us in our grief. With that, I will leave you with the video of my daughter, put together by a wonderful photographer named Teresa.
During the Victorian Era, death was common amongst infants and youth. Childhood mortality took one out of five babies in their first year and two out of five children before their fifth birthday. Over 30% of children passed away during the 19th century. Women always expected to lose children.
Daguerreotype (a detailed photo on polished silver) was becoming popular. Due to this, people began to photograph recently deceased people, though a majority were babies and children. The practice of Memento Mori grew in popularity as photography became more affordable using other mediums such as ambrotype (on glass), tintype (on thin inexpensive metal), and then on paper known as carte-de-visite. The "deceased" (truly HATE that word as it is so dehumanizing) would be photographed as if they were alive, but sleeping. Most of the time with babies and children, they would be propped up surrounded by family (either parents and siblings, just parents, just a parent, or just siblings). Sometimes, there was a photo of a baby in a coffin or just a child surrounded by it's toys. Again, these deaths were commonplace.
This is our history. So many parents and families never got a chance to have a photo before death, so they got in this one last photo to remember their loved one. It wasn't to remember the death, it was to remember the person. They didn't want to forget their lost loved one.
After WWI, funerals began moving into funeral parlors. Death began occuring in hospitals. Undertakers would care for our loved ones and bury them in a grave in a cemetary. Before that, funerals were at home. Death was at home. Your loved ones would care for and bury you. And again, this was commonplace. Unfortunately, when you took home out of the equation, death was almost hidden from people and it became more "private". The less people are exposed to death, the more taboo it became. Luckily, with medical advances, not as many infants and children died, so this is something most people were not accustomed to anymore. This is a great thing, but it has backfired and made loss a taboo subject.
As the Victorian Era came to an end and death was removed from the home, people were more able to dissociate themselves from death. When a mother would lose a child before/after birth, the baby would just be taken away and placed in an unmarked grave that, sometimes, the parents didn't even know about. At one point, babies weren't named or even considered viable until they hit 30 days of age. It was believed that acknowledging the loss caused you to be in mourning, so if you pretend the baby never happened, you had no reason to mourn. For older infants and children, they were buried and life moved on. For the newborns, most parents didn't even get to see their baby, let alone have anything to remember that child by, like a photo. Parents were encouraged to just get over it and have another baby. So many of these parents were left with these gaping wounds that could never heal because they had no closure. When my friends and I hear about loss from the 40's to the 60/70's, the stories are all the same.
As the 70's and 80's approached, things changed some. Sometimes parents did get to see the child and plan funerals. There were no photos and you weren't suppose to grieve. And now, in most places, you get to hold and see your baby. You get to have photographs taken by a photographer who volunteers through Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, an infant bereavement photography organization. You get to be active with the funeral planning. We know where our babies get buried, if we choose to bury them at all.
Now, due to The Duggars sharing photos of tiny feet and a hand, they have come under so much fire. Not only have people criticized the photos, but they have criticized the way the parents are choosing to grieve. One psychologist spoke up proclaiming " “From what I know of parents who have lost children, it’s horrific. It’s not something you want pictures of.". To this, I have to say- "WTF?". So, I asked some friends and they gave me permission to share:
" I will always be grateful that we were encouraged to spend as much time with him as we wanted and take pictures. It helped me to see his pictures around our home and to look through his memory box as I grieved. It helped to not only make it real so my mind could accept reality but to also heal, each day crying less and less till I could look at his pictures and smile, happy that I have them to remember him, rather than break down."
" I did hold her and I do have pictures. I didn't think I would be able to handle either, but after I had her and I slept I woke up with this overwhelming urge to hold her so I'm glad I got to and I'm gld I had someone take pictures of those first moments. Someone told me I might want it later which was why I made sure to have pictures. It definitely helped.- Monica
"Yes Bambi we both me and hubby got to hold or Taylor lynn she was born at 26 weeks and 3 days. We did Kanga care with her. I cherish all the time we had with her. She was in the Nicu for 4 days. We were with her petty much all the time. I don't know what I would do without our time we had, our pictures and the memories"
"I did both and more. We were beyond blessed we knew the outcome of our Babys life before he was born. We had a dear friend and photographer with Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep capture the most precious moments of the short time we had our son. She made me a gorgeous album and slideshow for his service. I cherish those pictures more than words can express. We also had someone come to the hospital and take 3d hand and foot castings. Every member of our family has his precious feet and we also have a statute if his feet and his little hand holding my finger. These items are so special to me. To this day, nearly 5 yrs later, they are something I couldn't imagine not having. We are so blessed to have walked away from such a devastating loss with some of the most beautiful memories of the time we spent holding and loving our precious son. I wouldn't change how and what we did for the world. Those moments are so precious and will stay tucked in my heart forever"
" The nurses were kind enough to take a bunch of pictures after they took him out of the room and print them for us. I think it has helped to have them and to have been able to hold him."
":*( I had lots of photos, wanted to take photos at the funeral home and my family was REALLY against it. I even asked the funeral home if they took any without me knowing, just so I could see his sweet face just one more time."
" Mine was a miscarriage (14 weeks) so not quite the same, but I do regret not looking at him more and not getting a couple of pictures, or at least getting a copy of the last ultra-sound (although the memory of the screen is burned into my brain, but it would be nice to have for his memory box). I did have an u/s at 8 weeks and the tech gave me a bunch of pics and a cd (which I thought was silly at the time, but boy was I so grateful for it after we lost him), but you know at 14 weeks they're so much more developed and he looked so much different, it would have been nice to have."
" I saw and held Luca. I don't know if it has helped my grief simply because I don't know the reason he left us. I think it was better to have held him and see him than to have not done anything. The hospital took pictures of him for us and I do think that is good for me."
" It gave me time to love on Rachael and it gave us time to mourn her all at the same time. Family members who were willing also got to hold her. Mike went with the nurse and walked her to the morgue when it was time for us to go. That was the hardest thing I've ever done was not to go with them. BUT if we hadn't had that time I think I'd still be a basket case."
Now, since I recently shared about my miscarriages and the story about the second one, I'm going to say that I wish I had a photo of that baby. Even though it was small, I wish I could have a picture to look at instead of relying upon my memory. I'm glad I got a chance to see and hold that little baby. I think acknowledging that little person helped me come to grips with everything. I truly hate not knowing what happened to that baby after me taking it to the doctor. I will never know if it was considered medical waste or if it was buried in a mass grave somewhere.
On photos and rainbow babies:
"I think it helps with your other kids too. My daughter was born after Faith so she loves the pictures of her sister so I love that we can share them with her."
A Doctors Perspective:
" I always encourage my patients to hold their stillborn babies, to take photos, and to take hand and footprints. Our hospital has a system in place where mementos are always taken, and if the parents change their minds after the fact and want them after all, they are archived for several weeks. I know that I would want to."
As you can see, many of us truly cherish being able to see and hold our children. It has helped us in our grief and given us something tangible to hold on to. Looking at the older women that are just now searching for graves and opening up, you can see and hear the pain of these unacknowledged losses. They have been in pain and unable to talk about it for 30, 40, or 50 years. Could you imagine just having your baby whisked away, not seeing it, not holding it, having nothing, and being told to get over it and have another baby as though another child can replace that lost baby?? We need to be able to talk about our babies. We NEED to hold that child. We NEED to have something of that child. We NEED acknowledgement of that life cut short. It is crucial to how we cope with these deaths. When we are told we cannot share or we see comments such as "that is disgusting", "those are morbid", calling our child a "corpse" (there was a woman on babycenter who did this ALL THE TIME), it hurts us all over again. It's hard enough enduring loss, but to deal with people being insensitive due to their own fears and insecurities, we ARE victimized all over again.
When it comes to our photos, these are the ONLY photos we will ever have. We don't have the chance to photograph those first smiles, first crawls, first steps, first teeth, first birthdays, first holidays, NOTHING. You know, people say The Duggars should grieve in private. In other words, they don't want to acknowledge grieving parents. Back in the Victorian Era, people had special mourning garments and had set periods with which to mourn and how to behave in each period. So, grief was observed back then. Then grief wasn't, and now it is again or we are trying to have it observed by others again.
Our photos are not morbid or creepy or disgusting and they do help us in our grief. With that, I will leave you with the video of my daughter, put together by a wonderful photographer named Teresa.
Friday, December 16, 2011
My Birth Experiences- Child #4
After my miscarriage, the thought of losing another baby was horrifying. My innocence was gone and I feared that I would just miscarry again. After a year, I was finally ready to try again and got pregnant on the first try (in case you hadn't noticed, I'm pretty fertile).
My due date was the day after christmas. Pregnancy went perfectly.
Knowing myself, I knew I would have my baby before christmas, but was worried that I would be in a hospital instead of at home with my family. I tried like hell to get my doctor to induce because it would be convenient for us both. He found my argument rather persuasive, but still declined! I did talk him into sweeping membranes as I had begun having nightly contractions around 36 weeks (this was typical for me). We did that on a monday morning, just 6 days before christmas. This simple procedure sent me into early labor. I was thrilled to finally start laboring and looking forward to my natural birth.
That evening, I went to the hospital to get checked as I was contracting every 3 minutes. I was only 1.5cm. So, we were sent home. We had my inlaws take the kids earlier and it was late so we hit Wal-mart. I had to stop and concentrate on my breathing regularly. It was fixing to be a long night. However, my labor would come to a halt, just long enough for me to sleep.
I woke up in the morning and within about an hour of being up, labor began again. I was incredibly thankful for the good night's sleep. I was having more show, but thought "this is probably nothing". That was around 10/11am. By 2pm, I was still contracting and they were getting more painful. One of my friends from church stopped over and as soon as she saw me, told me I need to get rolling to the hospital because this was it. I was like "Eh, I want to make sure". I knew how long my previous labor was and how it went, so I really wanted to be sure. Then, I got to where I couldn't stand. It was labor alright!
We arrived at the hospital around 3pm. As I tried going from wheelchair to bed, I had a contraction, so I got on hands and knees right there on the floor. The nurses picked me up and had me get in bed where they helped me get in a gown. I knew then, well ASSumed, that this meant no natural birth. I called my mother who reassured me that it was ok to get an epidural, I didn't have to play superwoman. So, I requested an epidural. Good choice! When I had arrived, I was 4cm and contracting every two minutes. My dad arrived and sat with us. I don't recall exactly why the doctor checked me when he did, but my dad was told to step out so I could push.
Due to the tear I had with my previous baby, I did ask the doctor for an episiotomy and he agreed to do that for me. At 4:56pm, after about 15 minutes of pushing, my 7.5lbs baby boy came into the world. I was ecstatic! Adding to the christmas element of his birthday, he was born with pointy little elf ears that left everyone chuckling.
My due date was the day after christmas. Pregnancy went perfectly.
Knowing myself, I knew I would have my baby before christmas, but was worried that I would be in a hospital instead of at home with my family. I tried like hell to get my doctor to induce because it would be convenient for us both. He found my argument rather persuasive, but still declined! I did talk him into sweeping membranes as I had begun having nightly contractions around 36 weeks (this was typical for me). We did that on a monday morning, just 6 days before christmas. This simple procedure sent me into early labor. I was thrilled to finally start laboring and looking forward to my natural birth.
That evening, I went to the hospital to get checked as I was contracting every 3 minutes. I was only 1.5cm. So, we were sent home. We had my inlaws take the kids earlier and it was late so we hit Wal-mart. I had to stop and concentrate on my breathing regularly. It was fixing to be a long night. However, my labor would come to a halt, just long enough for me to sleep.
I woke up in the morning and within about an hour of being up, labor began again. I was incredibly thankful for the good night's sleep. I was having more show, but thought "this is probably nothing". That was around 10/11am. By 2pm, I was still contracting and they were getting more painful. One of my friends from church stopped over and as soon as she saw me, told me I need to get rolling to the hospital because this was it. I was like "Eh, I want to make sure". I knew how long my previous labor was and how it went, so I really wanted to be sure. Then, I got to where I couldn't stand. It was labor alright!
We arrived at the hospital around 3pm. As I tried going from wheelchair to bed, I had a contraction, so I got on hands and knees right there on the floor. The nurses picked me up and had me get in bed where they helped me get in a gown. I knew then, well ASSumed, that this meant no natural birth. I called my mother who reassured me that it was ok to get an epidural, I didn't have to play superwoman. So, I requested an epidural. Good choice! When I had arrived, I was 4cm and contracting every two minutes. My dad arrived and sat with us. I don't recall exactly why the doctor checked me when he did, but my dad was told to step out so I could push.
Due to the tear I had with my previous baby, I did ask the doctor for an episiotomy and he agreed to do that for me. At 4:56pm, after about 15 minutes of pushing, my 7.5lbs baby boy came into the world. I was ecstatic! Adding to the christmas element of his birthday, he was born with pointy little elf ears that left everyone chuckling.
My Birth Experiences- Child #4
After my miscarriage, the thought of losing another baby was horrifying. My innocence was gone and I feared that I would just miscarry again. After a year, I was finally ready to try again and got pregnant on the first try (in case you hadn't noticed, I'm pretty fertile).
My due date was the day after christmas. Pregnancy went perfectly.
Knowing myself, I knew I would have my baby before christmas, but was worried that I would be in a hospital instead of at home with my family. I tried like hell to get my doctor to induce because it would be convenient for us both. He found my argument rather persuasive, but still declined! I did talk him into sweeping membranes as I had begun having nightly contractions around 36 weeks (this was typical for me). We did that on a monday morning, just 6 days before christmas. This simple procedure sent me into early labor. I was thrilled to finally start laboring and looking forward to my natural birth.
That evening, I went to the hospital to get checked as I was contracting every 3 minutes. I was only 1.5cm. So, we were sent home. We had my inlaws take the kids earlier and it was late so we hit Wal-mart. I had to stop and concentrate on my breathing regularly. It was fixing to be a long night. However, my labor would come to a halt, just long enough for me to sleep.
I woke up in the morning and within about an hour of being up, labor began again. I was incredibly thankful for the good night's sleep. I was having more show, but thought "this is probably nothing". That was around 10/11am. By 2pm, I was still contracting and they were getting more painful. One of my friends from church stopped over and as soon as she saw me, told me I need to get rolling to the hospital because this was it. I was like "Eh, I want to make sure". I knew how long my previous labor was and how it went, so I really wanted to be sure. Then, I got to where I couldn't stand. It was labor alright!
We arrived at the hospital around 3pm. As I tried going from wheelchair to bed, I had a contraction, so I got on hands and knees right there on the floor. The nurses picked me up and had me get in bed where they helped me get in a gown. I knew then, well ASSumed, that this meant no natural birth. I called my mother who reassured me that it was ok to get an epidural, I didn't have to play superwoman. So, I requested an epidural. Good choice! When I had arrived, I was 4cm and contracting every two minutes. My dad arrived and sat with us. I don't recall exactly why the doctor checked me when he did, but my dad was told to step out so I could push.
Due to the tear I had with my previous baby, I did ask the doctor for an episiotomy and he agreed to do that for me. At 4:56pm, after about 15 minutes of pushing, my 7.5lbs baby boy came into the world. I was ecstatic! Adding to the christmas element of his birthday, he was born with pointy little elf ears that left everyone chuckling.
My due date was the day after christmas. Pregnancy went perfectly.
Knowing myself, I knew I would have my baby before christmas, but was worried that I would be in a hospital instead of at home with my family. I tried like hell to get my doctor to induce because it would be convenient for us both. He found my argument rather persuasive, but still declined! I did talk him into sweeping membranes as I had begun having nightly contractions around 36 weeks (this was typical for me). We did that on a monday morning, just 6 days before christmas. This simple procedure sent me into early labor. I was thrilled to finally start laboring and looking forward to my natural birth.
That evening, I went to the hospital to get checked as I was contracting every 3 minutes. I was only 1.5cm. So, we were sent home. We had my inlaws take the kids earlier and it was late so we hit Wal-mart. I had to stop and concentrate on my breathing regularly. It was fixing to be a long night. However, my labor would come to a halt, just long enough for me to sleep.
I woke up in the morning and within about an hour of being up, labor began again. I was incredibly thankful for the good night's sleep. I was having more show, but thought "this is probably nothing". That was around 10/11am. By 2pm, I was still contracting and they were getting more painful. One of my friends from church stopped over and as soon as she saw me, told me I need to get rolling to the hospital because this was it. I was like "Eh, I want to make sure". I knew how long my previous labor was and how it went, so I really wanted to be sure. Then, I got to where I couldn't stand. It was labor alright!
We arrived at the hospital around 3pm. As I tried going from wheelchair to bed, I had a contraction, so I got on hands and knees right there on the floor. The nurses picked me up and had me get in bed where they helped me get in a gown. I knew then, well ASSumed, that this meant no natural birth. I called my mother who reassured me that it was ok to get an epidural, I didn't have to play superwoman. So, I requested an epidural. Good choice! When I had arrived, I was 4cm and contracting every two minutes. My dad arrived and sat with us. I don't recall exactly why the doctor checked me when he did, but my dad was told to step out so I could push.
Due to the tear I had with my previous baby, I did ask the doctor for an episiotomy and he agreed to do that for me. At 4:56pm, after about 15 minutes of pushing, my 7.5lbs baby boy came into the world. I was ecstatic! Adding to the christmas element of his birthday, he was born with pointy little elf ears that left everyone chuckling.
Friday, December 9, 2011
My Birth Stories- Miscarriage #2
In February 03, I found out I was pregnant. My hubby was over the moon, but I had reservations. I feel badly saying that, but it's how I felt. Slowly, I began getting excited. I had some friends who thought "4 kids is too many, just abort". Yeah, I didn't even entertain that thought!
At 6 weeks, I had cramping so a doctor at the air force hospital did an ultrasound . A little fish with a flicker. Awesome! She told me she couldn't guaruntee I wouldn't miscarry. I thought, there's a heartbeat, I'm good.
At 11weeks, I went in for a regular prenatal appointment. They were suppose to do the heartbeat and everything. The nurse puts the doppler to my belly and nothing. In my head, I'm thinking she doesn't know what she's doing. The doctor goes to try and he gets nothing as well. At the moment, I just began crying. I was by myself in this room. The doctor grabbed a portable ultrasound machine and put the wand to my belly. There it was, a tiny little person with arms and legs. Unfortunately, the little person no longer had a heartbeat. I ask for a picture. He let me know I could get myself together and meet him in his office. My husband was sitting in his office and the doctor let me know he was going to schedule a D&C. Having the pro-life stance I did, I equated D&C's with people who were volunteering to abort their babies. I didn't want to abort my baby.
Two later, I returned to confirm the baby's death. No growth, no heartbeat, it was over. The doctor let me know that, had I been an earlier gestational age, he could just induce the miscarriage, but I was too far along and it was risky. Being the difficult person I am, I told him I wanted to do that because I wanted to give birth to my baby. He called in a script for Cytotec, had me go down to the pharmacy to get it, and bring it back up to him. Of course, on my way down the elevator, it stopped as a nurse wheeled a brand new mother and baby down to an eager spouse. Talk about a knife in my heart.
About 2:30, the cytotec is inserted and I'm sent home. A little time passes and I start feeling crampy. I'm starting to bleed some. Of course, I had to drive to go get my husband from the base and by the time I get there, the pain is horrible, so he drives home. I continue "laboring" in our bathroom and bedroom. I think it was about 7/7:30pm when I felt the pop of the sac. Talk about an odd sensation. Two hours later, I had the baby. Perfectly formed with a mouth, tongue, arms, legs, hands, feet. A tiny dead baby. The doctor had given me a specimen cup to place the baby in. The deal was, I wanted testing to find out what the baby was gender wise and why it died. The next morning, I began passing chunks of placenta. That's not usually a good thing. I began losing blood. So, when I went in to the doctor he admitted me. One nurse tried taking my blood pressure and was like "No, this isn't right". HE tries again and runs into the hall. Several nurses try and my blood pressure is not changing. One nurse told me I should be dead with a blood pressure that low. I was taken to the ICU to await my emergency d&c as they were having trouble finding blood for me. I don't remember anything after that.
I woke up to people trying to wake me up after the surgery. I couldn't come out of the anesthesia. When I did finally come out of it, my husband and friend were sitting in my room.
Testing on the baby was inconclusive and they never even tested for gender. I tried finding out what happened to the baby, but those efforts failed. Does it haunt me? Sure does. But I got to hold and see my baby. I needed that. I just hope that these days, there are better resources for women who lose babies than there were for me down there.
At 6 weeks, I had cramping so a doctor at the air force hospital did an ultrasound . A little fish with a flicker. Awesome! She told me she couldn't guaruntee I wouldn't miscarry. I thought, there's a heartbeat, I'm good.
At 11weeks, I went in for a regular prenatal appointment. They were suppose to do the heartbeat and everything. The nurse puts the doppler to my belly and nothing. In my head, I'm thinking she doesn't know what she's doing. The doctor goes to try and he gets nothing as well. At the moment, I just began crying. I was by myself in this room. The doctor grabbed a portable ultrasound machine and put the wand to my belly. There it was, a tiny little person with arms and legs. Unfortunately, the little person no longer had a heartbeat. I ask for a picture. He let me know I could get myself together and meet him in his office. My husband was sitting in his office and the doctor let me know he was going to schedule a D&C. Having the pro-life stance I did, I equated D&C's with people who were volunteering to abort their babies. I didn't want to abort my baby.
Two later, I returned to confirm the baby's death. No growth, no heartbeat, it was over. The doctor let me know that, had I been an earlier gestational age, he could just induce the miscarriage, but I was too far along and it was risky. Being the difficult person I am, I told him I wanted to do that because I wanted to give birth to my baby. He called in a script for Cytotec, had me go down to the pharmacy to get it, and bring it back up to him. Of course, on my way down the elevator, it stopped as a nurse wheeled a brand new mother and baby down to an eager spouse. Talk about a knife in my heart.
About 2:30, the cytotec is inserted and I'm sent home. A little time passes and I start feeling crampy. I'm starting to bleed some. Of course, I had to drive to go get my husband from the base and by the time I get there, the pain is horrible, so he drives home. I continue "laboring" in our bathroom and bedroom. I think it was about 7/7:30pm when I felt the pop of the sac. Talk about an odd sensation. Two hours later, I had the baby. Perfectly formed with a mouth, tongue, arms, legs, hands, feet. A tiny dead baby. The doctor had given me a specimen cup to place the baby in. The deal was, I wanted testing to find out what the baby was gender wise and why it died. The next morning, I began passing chunks of placenta. That's not usually a good thing. I began losing blood. So, when I went in to the doctor he admitted me. One nurse tried taking my blood pressure and was like "No, this isn't right". HE tries again and runs into the hall. Several nurses try and my blood pressure is not changing. One nurse told me I should be dead with a blood pressure that low. I was taken to the ICU to await my emergency d&c as they were having trouble finding blood for me. I don't remember anything after that.
I woke up to people trying to wake me up after the surgery. I couldn't come out of the anesthesia. When I did finally come out of it, my husband and friend were sitting in my room.
Testing on the baby was inconclusive and they never even tested for gender. I tried finding out what happened to the baby, but those efforts failed. Does it haunt me? Sure does. But I got to hold and see my baby. I needed that. I just hope that these days, there are better resources for women who lose babies than there were for me down there.
My Birth Stories- Miscarriage #2
In February 03, I found out I was pregnant. My hubby was over the moon, but I had reservations. I feel badly saying that, but it's how I felt. Slowly, I began getting excited. I had some friends who thought "4 kids is too many, just abort". Yeah, I didn't even entertain that thought!
At 6 weeks, I had cramping so a doctor at the air force hospital did an ultrasound . A little fish with a flicker. Awesome! She told me she couldn't guaruntee I wouldn't miscarry. I thought, there's a heartbeat, I'm good.
At 11weeks, I went in for a regular prenatal appointment. They were suppose to do the heartbeat and everything. The nurse puts the doppler to my belly and nothing. In my head, I'm thinking she doesn't know what she's doing. The doctor goes to try and he gets nothing as well. At the moment, I just began crying. I was by myself in this room. The doctor grabbed a portable ultrasound machine and put the wand to my belly. There it was, a tiny little person with arms and legs. Unfortunately, the little person no longer had a heartbeat. I ask for a picture. He let me know I could get myself together and meet him in his office. My husband was sitting in his office and the doctor let me know he was going to schedule a D&C. Having the pro-life stance I did, I equated D&C's with people who were volunteering to abort their babies. I didn't want to abort my baby.
Two later, I returned to confirm the baby's death. No growth, no heartbeat, it was over. The doctor let me know that, had I been an earlier gestational age, he could just induce the miscarriage, but I was too far along and it was risky. Being the difficult person I am, I told him I wanted to do that because I wanted to give birth to my baby. He called in a script for Cytotec, had me go down to the pharmacy to get it, and bring it back up to him. Of course, on my way down the elevator, it stopped as a nurse wheeled a brand new mother and baby down to an eager spouse. Talk about a knife in my heart.
About 2:30, the cytotec is inserted and I'm sent home. A little time passes and I start feeling crampy. I'm starting to bleed some. Of course, I had to drive to go get my husband from the base and by the time I get there, the pain is horrible, so he drives home. I continue "laboring" in our bathroom and bedroom. I think it was about 7/7:30pm when I felt the pop of the sac. Talk about an odd sensation. Two hours later, I had the baby. Perfectly formed with a mouth, tongue, arms, legs, hands, feet. A tiny dead baby. The doctor had given me a specimen cup to place the baby in. The deal was, I wanted testing to find out what the baby was gender wise and why it died. The next morning, I began passing chunks of placenta. That's not usually a good thing. I began losing blood. So, when I went in to the doctor he admitted me. One nurse tried taking my blood pressure and was like "No, this isn't right". HE tries again and runs into the hall. Several nurses try and my blood pressure is not changing. One nurse told me I should be dead with a blood pressure that low. I was taken to the ICU to await my emergency d&c as they were having trouble finding blood for me. I don't remember anything after that.
I woke up to people trying to wake me up after the surgery. I couldn't come out of the anesthesia. When I did finally come out of it, my husband and friend were sitting in my room.
Testing on the baby was inconclusive and they never even tested for gender. I tried finding out what happened to the baby, but those efforts failed. Does it haunt me? Sure does. But I got to hold and see my baby. I needed that. I just hope that these days, there are better resources for women who lose babies than there were for me down there.
At 6 weeks, I had cramping so a doctor at the air force hospital did an ultrasound . A little fish with a flicker. Awesome! She told me she couldn't guaruntee I wouldn't miscarry. I thought, there's a heartbeat, I'm good.
At 11weeks, I went in for a regular prenatal appointment. They were suppose to do the heartbeat and everything. The nurse puts the doppler to my belly and nothing. In my head, I'm thinking she doesn't know what she's doing. The doctor goes to try and he gets nothing as well. At the moment, I just began crying. I was by myself in this room. The doctor grabbed a portable ultrasound machine and put the wand to my belly. There it was, a tiny little person with arms and legs. Unfortunately, the little person no longer had a heartbeat. I ask for a picture. He let me know I could get myself together and meet him in his office. My husband was sitting in his office and the doctor let me know he was going to schedule a D&C. Having the pro-life stance I did, I equated D&C's with people who were volunteering to abort their babies. I didn't want to abort my baby.
Two later, I returned to confirm the baby's death. No growth, no heartbeat, it was over. The doctor let me know that, had I been an earlier gestational age, he could just induce the miscarriage, but I was too far along and it was risky. Being the difficult person I am, I told him I wanted to do that because I wanted to give birth to my baby. He called in a script for Cytotec, had me go down to the pharmacy to get it, and bring it back up to him. Of course, on my way down the elevator, it stopped as a nurse wheeled a brand new mother and baby down to an eager spouse. Talk about a knife in my heart.
About 2:30, the cytotec is inserted and I'm sent home. A little time passes and I start feeling crampy. I'm starting to bleed some. Of course, I had to drive to go get my husband from the base and by the time I get there, the pain is horrible, so he drives home. I continue "laboring" in our bathroom and bedroom. I think it was about 7/7:30pm when I felt the pop of the sac. Talk about an odd sensation. Two hours later, I had the baby. Perfectly formed with a mouth, tongue, arms, legs, hands, feet. A tiny dead baby. The doctor had given me a specimen cup to place the baby in. The deal was, I wanted testing to find out what the baby was gender wise and why it died. The next morning, I began passing chunks of placenta. That's not usually a good thing. I began losing blood. So, when I went in to the doctor he admitted me. One nurse tried taking my blood pressure and was like "No, this isn't right". HE tries again and runs into the hall. Several nurses try and my blood pressure is not changing. One nurse told me I should be dead with a blood pressure that low. I was taken to the ICU to await my emergency d&c as they were having trouble finding blood for me. I don't remember anything after that.
I woke up to people trying to wake me up after the surgery. I couldn't come out of the anesthesia. When I did finally come out of it, my husband and friend were sitting in my room.
Testing on the baby was inconclusive and they never even tested for gender. I tried finding out what happened to the baby, but those efforts failed. Does it haunt me? Sure does. But I got to hold and see my baby. I needed that. I just hope that these days, there are better resources for women who lose babies than there were for me down there.
Friday, December 2, 2011
My Birth Stories- Child #3
My husband enlisted in the military in February 2001 after a lay-off. We decided no more children, esp because we were unsure as to how things would go in the military. Turns out saying it doesn't prevent it from happening!
I had noticed I was a tad tired and just felt off. My friend encouraged me to test and that sucker popped right up. We put the test in a gift bag and took it with us to lunch. All the guys were wanting to know what was in the bag so he looked and informed them that we were pregnant. I went to the medical clinic on base and had a test done. Their test took a bit to come up positive so they did bloodwork. Then I went to the air force base to get my official test and bloodwork. That was all in the first half of july.
At the end of august, I had to go to the clinic where the doctor told me my tests were negative and chances are I was having a missed miscarriage. Talk about flipping out. We immediately went to the air force hospital so I could get looked at. Their stuff said I was still pregnant. I wanted to throttle that navy doctor for putting me through so much crap!! That was not the last run in I would have with him. In october, I began to have issues with my heart racing and getting light headed. I even passed out. Now, I had taken ephedrine to lose weight from the time my husband enlisted until we moved down there in May. The doctors found that just me standing up would cause my heart to race at over 200bpm, so I spent time hooked up to EKG's. It was great. The one day that I was taken by ambulance from the medical clinic to the air force hospital, this doctor tried finding my son's heartbeat and got nothing, so he figured my son was dead. I had ONE person that could draw my blood or give me an IV there and they didn't call him into the room to help get ready for the transport. I was like a pincushion experiment! That was the last dealing I had with that clinic for myself.
Luckily my heart calmed down and the pregnancy went smooth. My doctors told me to stop working at 35 weeks. I was due March 17th, the day before two family birthdays and after two others. I went into labor 9 days early after working in my flower beds all morning. I was called into work that day, but nobody told me what. Turns out the girls arranged a surprise baby shower. I told them, I would probably have my son that weekend. I contracted all day, stopped at night, and didn't start until the next day about noon. Contractions were every 6 minutes. I was losing plug too (gotta love reading that, lol). I called the hospital and they told me I could either come in and get checked or just wait, but they thought I was coming right in.
That evening, we had tickets for the circus. So, while I was in labor, we went to the circus. It really wasn't too bad to be honest. I was still hanging out at the 6 minute mark. After the circus, we just went for a drive and then went home. Around 9pm, they began getting closer, so I had my husband take our kids to the sitters house. Living on base, she lived right by us, so he walked them there and came home. We set out about 10:30 for the hospital. The hospital was a half hour away and I had to stop to get sick. When we got there and got checked, I was found to be 8cm. Yippee!! Now, the care did suck. Instead of being helped to the bathroom, I was given a bedpan. Which, served them right because when I tried to go, my water broke and shot out! I got distance, lol!! I began pushing and begged to be cut because it felt like I was going to tear badly. They refused to cut me, so I did tear (Imagine one labia literally hanging by a piece of skin). That was great. I did not get numbed to do the repair and even thinking about it now, makes the girly bits cringe. I did deliver flat on my back, like flat flat, not semi reclined, but flat. But at 12:01 am, on my stepgrandfather's birthday, I delivered my middle son. Sucky hospital experience, but awesome baby!
I did develop some PPD as I lost my grandmother from cancer right after his birth. She only got to see his picture, never him, but Grandpa said she smiled. I love my Grandmother and losing her sent me into the worst tailspin. I was diagnosed with depression when my son was 9 months old.
I had noticed I was a tad tired and just felt off. My friend encouraged me to test and that sucker popped right up. We put the test in a gift bag and took it with us to lunch. All the guys were wanting to know what was in the bag so he looked and informed them that we were pregnant. I went to the medical clinic on base and had a test done. Their test took a bit to come up positive so they did bloodwork. Then I went to the air force base to get my official test and bloodwork. That was all in the first half of july.
At the end of august, I had to go to the clinic where the doctor told me my tests were negative and chances are I was having a missed miscarriage. Talk about flipping out. We immediately went to the air force hospital so I could get looked at. Their stuff said I was still pregnant. I wanted to throttle that navy doctor for putting me through so much crap!! That was not the last run in I would have with him. In october, I began to have issues with my heart racing and getting light headed. I even passed out. Now, I had taken ephedrine to lose weight from the time my husband enlisted until we moved down there in May. The doctors found that just me standing up would cause my heart to race at over 200bpm, so I spent time hooked up to EKG's. It was great. The one day that I was taken by ambulance from the medical clinic to the air force hospital, this doctor tried finding my son's heartbeat and got nothing, so he figured my son was dead. I had ONE person that could draw my blood or give me an IV there and they didn't call him into the room to help get ready for the transport. I was like a pincushion experiment! That was the last dealing I had with that clinic for myself.
Luckily my heart calmed down and the pregnancy went smooth. My doctors told me to stop working at 35 weeks. I was due March 17th, the day before two family birthdays and after two others. I went into labor 9 days early after working in my flower beds all morning. I was called into work that day, but nobody told me what. Turns out the girls arranged a surprise baby shower. I told them, I would probably have my son that weekend. I contracted all day, stopped at night, and didn't start until the next day about noon. Contractions were every 6 minutes. I was losing plug too (gotta love reading that, lol). I called the hospital and they told me I could either come in and get checked or just wait, but they thought I was coming right in.
That evening, we had tickets for the circus. So, while I was in labor, we went to the circus. It really wasn't too bad to be honest. I was still hanging out at the 6 minute mark. After the circus, we just went for a drive and then went home. Around 9pm, they began getting closer, so I had my husband take our kids to the sitters house. Living on base, she lived right by us, so he walked them there and came home. We set out about 10:30 for the hospital. The hospital was a half hour away and I had to stop to get sick. When we got there and got checked, I was found to be 8cm. Yippee!! Now, the care did suck. Instead of being helped to the bathroom, I was given a bedpan. Which, served them right because when I tried to go, my water broke and shot out! I got distance, lol!! I began pushing and begged to be cut because it felt like I was going to tear badly. They refused to cut me, so I did tear (Imagine one labia literally hanging by a piece of skin). That was great. I did not get numbed to do the repair and even thinking about it now, makes the girly bits cringe. I did deliver flat on my back, like flat flat, not semi reclined, but flat. But at 12:01 am, on my stepgrandfather's birthday, I delivered my middle son. Sucky hospital experience, but awesome baby!
I did develop some PPD as I lost my grandmother from cancer right after his birth. She only got to see his picture, never him, but Grandpa said she smiled. I love my Grandmother and losing her sent me into the worst tailspin. I was diagnosed with depression when my son was 9 months old.
My Birth Stories- Child #3
My husband enlisted in the military in February 2001 after a lay-off. We decided no more children, esp because we were unsure as to how things would go in the military. Turns out saying it doesn't prevent it from happening!
I had noticed I was a tad tired and just felt off. My friend encouraged me to test and that sucker popped right up. We put the test in a gift bag and took it with us to lunch. All the guys were wanting to know what was in the bag so he looked and informed them that we were pregnant. I went to the medical clinic on base and had a test done. Their test took a bit to come up positive so they did bloodwork. Then I went to the air force base to get my official test and bloodwork. That was all in the first half of july.
At the end of august, I had to go to the clinic where the doctor told me my tests were negative and chances are I was having a missed miscarriage. Talk about flipping out. We immediately went to the air force hospital so I could get looked at. Their stuff said I was still pregnant. I wanted to throttle that navy doctor for putting me through so much crap!! That was not the last run in I would have with him. In october, I began to have issues with my heart racing and getting light headed. I even passed out. Now, I had taken ephedrine to lose weight from the time my husband enlisted until we moved down there in May. The doctors found that just me standing up would cause my heart to race at over 200bpm, so I spent time hooked up to EKG's. It was great. The one day that I was taken by ambulance from the medical clinic to the air force hospital, this doctor tried finding my son's heartbeat and got nothing, so he figured my son was dead. I had ONE person that could draw my blood or give me an IV there and they didn't call him into the room to help get ready for the transport. I was like a pincushion experiment! That was the last dealing I had with that clinic for myself.
Luckily my heart calmed down and the pregnancy went smooth. My doctors told me to stop working at 35 weeks. I was due March 17th, the day before two family birthdays and after two others. I went into labor 9 days early after working in my flower beds all morning. I was called into work that day, but nobody told me what. Turns out the girls arranged a surprise baby shower. I told them, I would probably have my son that weekend. I contracted all day, stopped at night, and didn't start until the next day about noon. Contractions were every 6 minutes. I was losing plug too (gotta love reading that, lol). I called the hospital and they told me I could either come in and get checked or just wait, but they thought I was coming right in.
That evening, we had tickets for the circus. So, while I was in labor, we went to the circus. It really wasn't too bad to be honest. I was still hanging out at the 6 minute mark. After the circus, we just went for a drive and then went home. Around 9pm, they began getting closer, so I had my husband take our kids to the sitters house. Living on base, she lived right by us, so he walked them there and came home. We set out about 10:30 for the hospital. The hospital was a half hour away and I had to stop to get sick. When we got there and got checked, I was found to be 8cm. Yippee!! Now, the care did suck. Instead of being helped to the bathroom, I was given a bedpan. Which, served them right because when I tried to go, my water broke and shot out! I got distance, lol!! I began pushing and begged to be cut because it felt like I was going to tear badly. They refused to cut me, so I did tear (Imagine one labia literally hanging by a piece of skin). That was great. I did not get numbed to do the repair and even thinking about it now, makes the girly bits cringe. I did deliver flat on my back, like flat flat, not semi reclined, but flat. But at 12:01 am, on my stepgrandfather's birthday, I delivered my middle son. Sucky hospital experience, but awesome baby!
I did develop some PPD as I lost my grandmother from cancer right after his birth. She only got to see his picture, never him, but Grandpa said she smiled. I love my Grandmother and losing her sent me into the worst tailspin. I was diagnosed with depression when my son was 9 months old.
I had noticed I was a tad tired and just felt off. My friend encouraged me to test and that sucker popped right up. We put the test in a gift bag and took it with us to lunch. All the guys were wanting to know what was in the bag so he looked and informed them that we were pregnant. I went to the medical clinic on base and had a test done. Their test took a bit to come up positive so they did bloodwork. Then I went to the air force base to get my official test and bloodwork. That was all in the first half of july.
At the end of august, I had to go to the clinic where the doctor told me my tests were negative and chances are I was having a missed miscarriage. Talk about flipping out. We immediately went to the air force hospital so I could get looked at. Their stuff said I was still pregnant. I wanted to throttle that navy doctor for putting me through so much crap!! That was not the last run in I would have with him. In october, I began to have issues with my heart racing and getting light headed. I even passed out. Now, I had taken ephedrine to lose weight from the time my husband enlisted until we moved down there in May. The doctors found that just me standing up would cause my heart to race at over 200bpm, so I spent time hooked up to EKG's. It was great. The one day that I was taken by ambulance from the medical clinic to the air force hospital, this doctor tried finding my son's heartbeat and got nothing, so he figured my son was dead. I had ONE person that could draw my blood or give me an IV there and they didn't call him into the room to help get ready for the transport. I was like a pincushion experiment! That was the last dealing I had with that clinic for myself.
Luckily my heart calmed down and the pregnancy went smooth. My doctors told me to stop working at 35 weeks. I was due March 17th, the day before two family birthdays and after two others. I went into labor 9 days early after working in my flower beds all morning. I was called into work that day, but nobody told me what. Turns out the girls arranged a surprise baby shower. I told them, I would probably have my son that weekend. I contracted all day, stopped at night, and didn't start until the next day about noon. Contractions were every 6 minutes. I was losing plug too (gotta love reading that, lol). I called the hospital and they told me I could either come in and get checked or just wait, but they thought I was coming right in.
That evening, we had tickets for the circus. So, while I was in labor, we went to the circus. It really wasn't too bad to be honest. I was still hanging out at the 6 minute mark. After the circus, we just went for a drive and then went home. Around 9pm, they began getting closer, so I had my husband take our kids to the sitters house. Living on base, she lived right by us, so he walked them there and came home. We set out about 10:30 for the hospital. The hospital was a half hour away and I had to stop to get sick. When we got there and got checked, I was found to be 8cm. Yippee!! Now, the care did suck. Instead of being helped to the bathroom, I was given a bedpan. Which, served them right because when I tried to go, my water broke and shot out! I got distance, lol!! I began pushing and begged to be cut because it felt like I was going to tear badly. They refused to cut me, so I did tear (Imagine one labia literally hanging by a piece of skin). That was great. I did not get numbed to do the repair and even thinking about it now, makes the girly bits cringe. I did deliver flat on my back, like flat flat, not semi reclined, but flat. But at 12:01 am, on my stepgrandfather's birthday, I delivered my middle son. Sucky hospital experience, but awesome baby!
I did develop some PPD as I lost my grandmother from cancer right after his birth. She only got to see his picture, never him, but Grandpa said she smiled. I love my Grandmother and losing her sent me into the worst tailspin. I was diagnosed with depression when my son was 9 months old.
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